


No Matter What

by aMUSEment345



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aMUSEment345/pseuds/aMUSEment345
Summary: Based (very loosely) on '200', written before it aired, with a few scenes I wish we'd been shown. One shot.





	No Matter What

 

 

 

_**A. N. Or, maybe it happened this way. Taking substantial liberties (because it was already written), but including those scenes I only wished were there. Spoilers for '200'. sort of.  
** _

_**No Matter What** _

"Is she all right? Morgan, is she all right?"

He threw off the hands that were trying to tend to him, and pushed his way to sitting.

"Morgan! Is she all right?"

"Lay yourself back down there, Pretty Boy. She'll be all right. They're working on her now."

Reid resisted as Morgan tried to gently push him back down. 'Working on her' was not consistent with 'all right'.

"Morgan…." Less volume now. Less force. Less air to speak it with.

"Just lie back, Kid. I'll make sure they're giving her what she needs." He needed to increase the force of his push only a little bit to overcome Reid's waning strength.

The young profiler fell back, eyes closed. He barely felt the penetration of the IV needle, the clamp of the pulse oximeter on his finger. His mind was on the person who lay on a gurney nearby, as he tried to capture and send every good vibration of energy he could harness.

_Please. Don't let her have withstood all of that, only to lose herself to it. Please._

* * *

He regained consciousness in the emergency room of a large teaching hospital, surrounded by a group of people in pink scrubs.

_Pink. Nothing says, 'we're on it' like pink._

"He's awake."

"Vitals?"

"Tachy at 120, respirations 25, pressure's holding at 98/60."

The one who seemed to be in charge apparently didn't like what he'd heard. "Didn't we get that second unit started yet?"

"He's O neg. Our last trauma went through it. Blood bank's waiting for a delivery. "

"Tell triage we're closed to trauma. We can't even take care of the two we've got."

It had taken Reid the length of the conversation to focus. Having gotten there, he became alarmed. He could only assume the two traumas they 'couldn't take care of' were himself and JJ.

He had no strength. Briefly, he wondered if he'd been paralyzed. But he could wiggle his fingers, even if he couldn't lift his arms.  _I'm too weak._

The best he could do was to turn his head from side to side, to convey his wish to communicate.

One of the nurses noticed. "Yes, Dr. Reid?"

Dr. Reid. Apparently they'd been talking to someone from the BAU.

"Take (pant) care (pant) of her. She…(pant)….has (pant) a son." It took all the breath from him.

"Are you talking about Agent Jareau?"

He tried to nod.

"We're taking very good care of her. Don't you worry about it at all."

"But… no…. blood."

The nurse was in a dilemma. Technically, she couldn't talk about one patient to another. But here was one patient, offering to sacrifice himself for the other. And one, by all reports, who'd gotten injured in the process of trying to save the life of that other. Didn't that trump HIPAA?

"Don't you worry. You'll both have everything you need." As she spoke, she could see the patient's fingers scrabbling about. Placing her hand over his to still it, she asked, "What else do you want to tell me?"

He panted to store up enough to get it all out in one breath. "No narcotics."

* * *

When he awakened, he was completely disoriented. His eyes were met with the sight of Morgan, sitting at his bedside, eating red jello. For a disturbingly long moment, Reid lost all the intervening years, and found himself rousing from a life-threatening battle with anthrax.

His voice was croaky. "Morgan?"

The older man looked up from his snack. "Hey, Kid, you're awake."

"Am I dead?"  _Doomed to relive the past, until I get it right? Where's Dr. Kimora?_

His question furrowed Morgan's brow. "Dead? Kid, you're talkin' to me. Do I look dead to you?"

Reid's eyes pointed at Morgan's hand. "You're eating jello."

Morgan looked from Reid, to the jello, and back to Reid, his mind making the leap. "Oh, yeah. Well, they don't have much else here. It's a hospital, Kid."

Reid couldn't lift his head from the pillow. "What happ…" Abruptly, he felt the need to sit up. But he could only flail his hands. He'd remembered. "JJ….how is JJ?"

"Chill, Kid. She'll be fine. She's got some healing to do, but so do you. The docs all say you'll both be fine."

"garble…garble…see her?"

"You want to see her?"

He tried to nod.

"I'll have to ask the doctors. I don't know if we can pull it off yet."

Reid squinted a 'why' at him.

"Because you're both hooked up to too many monitors. Didn't you notice all the wires?"

Reid's eyes wandered around his body. Wires from every extremity, two from several.

"Oh."

Morgan looked his sympathy at Reid. "If it helps to know, she's been asking for you, too."

The younger man started to rally at hearing that. "She's talking?"

"I told you, Pretty Boy, the doctors all say she'll be fine. We got to her in time.  _You_  got to her in time."

Reid's head fell deeper into the pillow, exhaustion closing his eyes. "Thank God."

* * *

It wasn't exactly a dream. His mind wouldn't let him rest enough for that, no matter the depletion of his physical energy. Instead, Reid's brain replayed for him the events of the prior twenty-four hours.

The day had started innocently enough. Get up, caffeinate, go to work, caffeinate some more, get ready for the morning meeting. Reid noticed that JJ hadn't yet arrived at her desk, but that happened sometimes, when she had the task of getting Henry to school in the morning. So he was caught completely off guard….all of them were, really…when it wasn't JJ who entered the round table room. Instead it was Will, and Henry.

Reid's internal alarm sounded instantly. In retrospect, it had been pinging at intervals for a while now. He'd known something was wrong. He could even recount the instances, the words, the looks on her face, that had triggered the small shots of alarm. But only in retrospect did they become clear in what they represented. Not a mood. Not a 'bad day'. Something going on in her life. Something that had been nagging at her for months. Something that  _should_  have alerted him.

Now, with a worried looking Will LaMontagne and a clearly upset Henry walking in the door, the alarm became deafening. Literally so, as the blood rushed to Reid's head. He could barely make out what Will was saying until he forced himself to calm.

"She didn't come home last night. She called and said she'd be late, but she never made it home. I fell asleep waiting for her, and didn't wake up until 3. When she still wasn't there, I called Hotch to see if maybe you all'd had an emergency."

All eyes now turned to the unit chief. "I had the police put a BOLO on her car, and I drove the reverse route on the way in."

They understood. Many a 'missing person' was found in a vehicle that had gone off the road. JJ had told all of them how tired she was yesterday. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she'd fallen asleep while driving and careened into the landscape.

Reid had a further concern in that regard. "Is there any water along her usual route?"

Trying very hard not to allow the mental image of a submerged car come together in his brain.

"I thought of that." Will had his hands over Henry's ears. "I looked the whole way here. Nothing, thank God."

Reid nodded.  _Thank God._  And then he started mentally kicking himself.

_She told you she was exhausted, didn't she? Couldn't you see it? Couldn't you have offered to drive her home? Was a Korean Film Festival really that important?_

He was barely done berating himself when a breathless Garcia ran into the room.

"They found her cell!"

His body still lying in his hospital bed, Reid's mind fast-forwarded through the next part of the memory. Providentially, the phone had been on, and Garcia had been able to give the police a location to search. But, unknown even to Hotch, JJ's phone was no longer the standard FBI-issue. Garcia was unable to access whole areas of encrypted information. But she was able to trace the final call JJ had made.

"To Cruz?" Even Rossi was surprised.

The news triggered something in Will.

"She told me, if anything ever happened to her, to talk to Cruz."

Hotch had been hovering in the doorway, phone in hand. Now he reentered the room.

"Cruz isn't answering and his phone's GPS is off."

The story that emerged after that stunned all of the listeners, but especially Reid. JJ had been on some kind of undercover special operation while she was with State. Something that had also involved Cruz, and taken place in the Middle East. His eidetic memory replayed nearly every conversation he'd had with JJ since Cruz had been announced as their new Section Chief.

_She knew him. And he knew her. Yet neither of them let on. But, why not? Why not acknowledge an acquaintanceship, at least? Unless…._

"It's still going on. They're still working on it." It was the only conclusion he could reach.

The rest agreed with him when they began to be stonewalled by other federal agencies.

"The FBI handles domestic issues, Agent Hotchner. Leave the international cases to us. Need to know, only." They'd heard one version or another of it from State, the DOD, Homeland Security and the CIA.

_And we need to know!_  The angry look on Hotch's face virtually shouted it. Determined to help his missing agent, he decided to work around his fellow feds. His very next call was an international one.

* * *

They'd done the legwork, run the route between the BAU and the plaza where JJ's phone was found. They would have done the same for Cruz, but his phone was found in his car, parked near the FBI's downtown building, where he'd been for an evening meeting. All of the other calls that Garcia could access were either to their respective homes, or contacts made in the process of conducting their usual business. Their usual, non-classified, business. But she could tell that there were calls, and numbers, and perhaps photos and files, that she still couldn't get at.

Hotch put Will and Henry into protective custody, but not until after Rossi had interviewed JJ's husband extensively.

Reid would, ever after, be embarrassed about it. But he'd pointed out that it would be foolish…not to mention potentially deadly….to ignore the fact that this could still be a simple domestic incident, made to look like international intrigue. One of them would have to talk to Will. He only knew it couldn't be him, and was relieved when Rossi volunteered.

The young agent didn't know how to feel when Rossi was comfortable clearing Will. The idea that JJ might have been living with someone who would hurt her was devastating. But at least Will was accessible. Now, they had no choice but to think she'd been taken by an unknown hostile.  _Unknown. Hostile. Dangerous. Maybe deadly._

They continued to work their few leads until, as a testimony to the advances in modern jet speed, in walked their international ally. On loan…or just AWOL…from Interpol. Emily Prentiss.

Something inside Reid leaped when he saw her. A raising of his spirits, a softening of the still-hardened part of his heart. He'd not seen her since she left. Since before…and after… Maeve.

But there was time for only a round of small smiles of greeting among them. Emily had been busy during her trip across the pond. She had news.

"Mercenaries?" Morgan expressed enough incredulity for all of them. "They're not even believers?"

Emily shrugged. "They're believers in money. Lots of it. These guys hire themselves out as foreign nationals, to work with some of the international conglomerates over there. Mostly oil companies, but a smattering of others as well. The companies are afraid to hire the nationals, afraid of getting in the middle of a religious war."

"So they hire from the international community, and think they're playing it safe," added Blake. She was all too familiar with the idea, and the consequences. Her husband's Doctors Without Borders camp had once been overrun by a mercenary-led attack.

It was the first ever exchange between the former BAU agent and her replacement. Emily nodded her respect to Blake, who returned the gesture in kind.

"Where are they from? Do we know?" asked Rossi.

Emily shook her head. "Not certain. A lot of these guys come from the former Soviet republics, hiring out to make money for the cause. So, they are ideological, in a way."

"Except that the 'cause' may not be political. As often as not, it turns out to be a personal cause," added Blake.

"So, they're doing it for the money. Killing people…even people they don't know or really care about one way or the other… just for the money." Morgan's anger was no longer below the surface.

"They're their own kind of serial killers," mused Reid. "State's wrong. This  _is_  a BAU case. We need to profile them."

Which was exactly what they did, using Emily's underground international network to provide what the Americans wouldn't. What they concluded wasn't reassuring.

"They'd stay in a metropolitan area, mostly likely either DC or New York, where their accents wouldn't make them so noticeable," offered Reid.

"So, most likely DC. It doesn't sound like anyone but JJ and Cruz were in on the operation, so they're not looking for anyone else. Once they'd gotten them, they'd keep them in DC." Morgan went through his logic.

"JJ's pretty strong, guys. She wouldn't have gone easily. Unless…" Reid couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. But he also couldn't keep the image of a limp, incapacitated JJ being dragged off to some uncertain fate.

Emily read him as easily now as she ever had. "They'd want her alive. If they've taken both of them…and especially if they've taken them together…it's for information. We'll have time."

She made sure Reid returned her gaze before she moved on. Made sure she'd kept the hope alive.

"I've got people working on the current locations of any possibles known to have been in the vicinity of JJ's operation at that time. We should have a list soon. And hopefully it will be a short one."

"All right, until we get IDs, let's look at what we know." Hotch used the same kind of language with which he always ran a case. The experienced senior agent knew he would get the best from his team if the case felt, even remotely, normal.

Rossi knew it too, and he started them off.

"We know JJ was well and accounted for ….what, nineteen hours ago?"

Blake took it up. "And we know the last call she tried to make took place about twenty minutes later."

"To Cruz. And she didn't complete the call. Which either means that Cruz simply hadn't answered it yet…or he was already taken." Morgan followed up.

"I can help with that." Garcia's heart had begun racing hours ago, but being able to offer assistance seemed to help calm her. "Cruz didn't touch his phone…not a single button…. After JJ tried to call him. It would have shown up."

Blake understood. "So he was probably already with them."

Hotch nodded. "Which tells us that they are probably close to the vicinity where JJ was taken."

Emily was still studying her former colleagues. She so admired their attempts to be professional. But she could also see the dread, the panic, that was just below the surface.

"And we know that there was no sign of violence at either location. No blood, no physical evidence."

"Not totally true," Reid pointed out. "There were scuff marks leading off from where JJ's phone was found."

Emily's eyes widened. She hadn't heard that. "In a direction?"

Reid and Morgan looked at each other. They'd uncovered the information from the police, but neither had thought to ask. That's how much their relationship with the victim in this case had affected them.

Emily saw their disappointment in themselves, and the guilt that threatened to creep in.

"It's fixable. PG, can you call Metro back?"

* * *

"Dr. Reid…. so sorry to wake you. I need to take some blood."

The cinema verite in his head dissolved just that quickly. Reid opened his eyes, and saw that he was alone with the phlebotomist.

_Morgan's gone. Please don't let that mean something happened to JJ._

He tried to sit up, got a little further this time. But then….the absence of narcotic analgesia made itself known.

"Uggg.."

"Dr. Reid, please hold still. I just need one more tube."

"Uggg…"

The phlebotomist became concerned. "Are you having a problem? Are you in pain?"

Reid tried to nod, wasn't sure if he'd succeeded.

"I'll get your nurse. Just let me finish labeling this, okay?"

Reid tried to distract himself by pondering the relativity of time, and how it was impacted by human observation. It probably isn't really taking forever.  _But it sure feels like it._

Finally, his nurse came in. Taking one look at her patient, she started for the med cart in the hallway, even as she asked, "How bad, out of ten?"

"Nine." No reason to exaggerate. But every reason to add, "No narcotics. Please."

"Not to worry, Dr. Reid, it's right here on your record." She tapped a computer screen. "Not to mention that your friend Agent Morgan pulled me aside twice, to make sure I knew. We'll have you on some nice IV ibuprofen. You'll be feeling better in a few minutes."

She'd finished drawing up her syringe, and now injected it into her patient's IV.

"Do you know where he is? Agent Morgan?"

"I believe he's with another agent. I didn't get her name. Blonde, glasses, high heels?"

_Garcia_. "Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong?" She'd finished injecting, now took stock of her patient. "Oh, you're still worried about Agent Jareau, aren't you?" She started smoothing out his blankets, and fluffed his pillow behind him. "No, I think the blonde just took Agent Morgan to get coffee." She studied him a moment longer. "She's been asking for you too, I hear...Agent Jareau."

"But you can't tell me, I know." His frustration about JJ and his pain were actively competing for his attention.

"Actually, I can." She smiled when she saw his reaction. "I stopped by her room during my so-called break, and she gave me permission. Now I'm supposed to get  _your_  permission to tell her about you."

She'd been touched to see how much the pair were focused on each other, rather than on their own situations.

"Maybe you'd better tell me about me, before you tell her. I only know that I needed surgery. And that I've got a huge dressing on my abdomen, and two drains coming out."

The nurse's brows went up. "That's pretty impressive. I thought Agent Morgan said you weren't a medical doctor."

"I'm not. I just…. I read a lot."

She smiled. "Okay, well, it sounds like you've mostly figured it out. You were stabbed twice in the abdomen, and yet managed to get four nicks to your intestine. Not to mention a belly full of blood."

"Lucky me."

"Not lucky to get so much damage from two knife wounds, but very lucky for you to be so near a trauma hospital. Our docs do good work here. Dr. Stevenson was able to close everything without costing you any of your colon. The drains are there to help with the infection."

"Infection? Already?"

"It's assumed. You have what's called a 'dirty wound', so it needs to remain open to the outside, to allow any pus to drain. Don't worry. It's not that uncommon…not in some of the neighborhoods around here. You'll be better before you know it."

She'd chatted him up long enough for the ibuprofen to begin taking the edge off his pain. His face was visibly more relaxed as he asked, "JJ?"

"Burns to various parts of her body, from a taser, apparently. Most first degree, a couple second. Most of her problems came from blunt trauma."

"From?" Trying not to picture it, until it was told to him.

"From a boot, mostly. The bastard actually left a full imprint on her back, and marks on her abdomen as well." She blushed. "Sorry for the language."

"Understood. So, what happened to her?"

"She had some bleeding around her right kidney, where the boot print was. And some into the capsule around her liver, which could have been bad…. But Dr. Pierre got it quickly, and she should be okay with that as well. The short story is that, given what they tried to do to her, she got off pretty well."

"Her head?" He remembered seeing the bruises on her face. If they'd kicked her middle enough to cause such damage, what might have happened to her brain?

"Fine. She had an MRI, just in case. No bleeding, no fracture. And she seems completely with it. Well, a little woozy from the pain meds, maybe, but…you know. Your boss…Agent Hotchner, is it? He says she's herself."

He was able to close his eyes again, relieved.  _I don't care what else happens, as long as she's okay._

* * *

The release from pain allowed Reid's body to claim the rest it needed. He fell into a dreamless sleep, and was surprised to open his eyes to bright sunlight. And a vision in dark hair and eyes.

"Emily." It came out as a croak, his throat was so dry. She looked up from the magazine she was trying so unsuccessfully to peruse.

"Hey, Handsome." She came over to the bed, and sat beside him on it. "You finally woke up."

"Have you been here long?"

"Mmm….. a little while, I guess." Not wanting him to worry that she'd been holding vigil for the past three hours.

"Hi."

She smiled. "Hi." She stroked his fingers, the only part of his arm that didn't seem to be involved in his medical care.

He tried to clear his throat, prompting her to give him water….and then remembering that he could have nothing by mouth. "Sorry."

"….'s all right." Now that it was over, now that they were all safe, he could focus on her.  _Emily. Dear Emily. How I've missed you._

She saw it in his face. "I've missed you, too."

He smiled back at her. "It's been…..long…a long time…. a long year."

She sobered immediately. "I know I wrote you but….. it didn't seem like enough. I so wish I could have come over, then. I'm so sorry, Reid. So sorry about Maeve. I'm sorry you lost her. And I'm sorry I never got to meet her."

Dear, sweet, direct, Emily. How he'd missed this. All of the others seemed to want to assess him, and analyze him. Only Emily gave him unrestricted sympathy. Even JJ, who he knew loved him, always seemed to be trying to anticipate his next need, the next right move. Only Emily was content to just be with him.

"Me too," he got out. "I wish she'd known you." Fully aware of the irony of it. Maeve had never even met  _him_  until the hour of her death. Yet, here he was, wishing she'd met Emily. But it was because knowing Emily, and knowing how connected they were, would have revealed something of himself to Maeve. Something he wanted her to know.

"Are you okay?"

He knew she wasn't talking about his physical trauma.

"Getting better. It's a day by day thing. Back and forth."

She nodded, understanding. "One step forward and two back, right? Hard to make progress that way, isn't it?"

She smiled when she saw him roll his eyes, acknowledging the dilemma. "But hang in there, my friend. Pretty soon it will be the other way around. Two forward, and one back. And you'll get there."

He managed to wrap his fingers around the hand that was stroking them. "Thanks."

* * *

Hotch had just finished debriefing him. Thirty six hours after the incident, he was beginning to regain a little of his strength. And he was using it to demand to see JJ.

Morgan had both hands raised in an 'I give up' motion. "All right, all right. I worked it out with the nurses. She's got fewer tubes and wires than you do, so she'll come to you."

It was another hour before they managed it. But, finally…..there she was, wheeled in by Emily.

Tears streamed down her face as she neared the bed. "Spence…"

"You're okay? Are you really okay?"

Her smile passed through the tears, like a rainbow.

"I'm okay. Or I will be. Thanks to you."

Emily and Morgan both slowly backed out of the room, leaving their two younger friends alone together.

"Thank God. I was so scared…. I thought about when we were walking out together, and I knew something was wrong… but I didn't say anything."

She heard the self-recrimination in his voice, and shook her head. "It wouldn't have helped, Spence. I wouldn't have told you. I couldn't have."

He stared at her. They'd already been through so much, because of things she 'couldn't' tell him. They'd worked through it, somehow. But here it was again.

"JJ…."

She hurriedly cut him off. "There's nothing else. I swear, Spence, there's nothing else. There's nothing I can't tell you, nothing I  _won't_  tell you. This was from that same time….. God, I got so lost when I was there."

He wasn't done with it. They'd be talking about this again, of that much he was sure. But it wasn't the time.

"You're here now. And you're okay."

She teared up again, her emotions so uncharacteristically riding just below the surface.

"I am. And you? The nurses told me you'll recover, but… how are you, really?"

"Fine," he lied. When he saw that she didn't believe him, he amended it. "I'll be okay. The pain's already better, and the rest will get there."

"Emily says you're too skinny."

"Emily's just used to people who eat bangers and mash every day."

JJ smiled. "I need to see for myself." With great effort, she used her arms to push herself out of the chair, and moved to the side of his bed.

"Come here. Please."

Somehow, around the tubes connected to the IVs, and the wires connected to the monitors, and the drains connected to the bags, they managed it. JJ sat on the edge of Reid's bed, and the two of them managed an embrace.

"I love you," she sniffed. As they pulled apart, she clarified. "Not just because you saved me. Of course I love you for that. And so does Henry. And Will." She had to wipe at her eyes. "I love you because…. because, after all that happened…. the things that came between us, and all the things that happened to me when I was away from you…. afterall that….there you were, still trying to reach out to me. So many times, lately. You know me that well. Sometimes I think you know me even better than Will. And what you know about me isn't all that flattering, is it? But you kept reaching out. You kept loving me anyway. I don't deserve it, Spence. But I will be grateful for it until the day I die."

He had to swallow before he could respond. "I'm just glad you're okay. To think of what they might have done…" He cut himself off abruptly, suddenly frightened. She'd been in captivity for over twenty four hours before she'd been found. "They didn't…. please tell me they didn't…"

She was playing with his fingers now. "They didn't. It was more about torturing it out of us than it was about anything else." She wouldn't tell him that she'd heard them talking about it. That it had been next on their strategy list. She'd already begun trying to convince herself that she could distance herself from it, go someplace else in her mind, if it happened. Not really believing it at all.

And just like that, she was right back there. In the chair. In that godforsaken basement…..

* * *

She'd felt something. Just a speck of something, falling on her from above. Looking up, she'd seen the vent. And then the shadow within _. God! Have you helped me? Have you answered my prayer?_

He was the only one thin enough to get through the ducts. It was a plan doomed to failure, Morgan had argued.

"How are you going to get all the way in there without them hearing you?"

But there were no windows, no tunnels, no other points of access to this space. It would have to be either the door or the vent. Neither seemed possible without alerting the mercenaries that they'd been found out. So it was decided Reid would go as far as necessary to snake a small camera forward. Maybe they would be able to see something that would help them make a plan.

Morgan wasn't happy with this. The last thing he wanted was to lose another one of his colleagues to these bastards. "Kid, you need to promise me that you'll go in there, and then get out. This is reconnaissance, nothing more. Right?"

"Right."  _Except if she's in danger. If she's hurt, all bets are off._

Hotch and Morgan boosted him enough that he could pull himself into the vent. Then he began to slowly creep along, inches at time, trying to move with as little sound as possible. He'd memorized the building plan, and knew exactly which branches to take and which to ignore. He started to fall into a pattern of movement when he heard it for the first time, echoing through the metal pathway. A scream. A female scream.  _JJ!_

Heart pounding, he put himself through a calming exercise. He couldn't afford to panic…. _she_  couldn't afford to have him panic. _Who knew PTSD would come in handy?_

As he continued along, and grew closer to the sounds, the calming exercises became less effective.  _Bastards! Leave her alone!_  But he learned to use the outbursts to move forward faster, the sound of his movement masked by the sound of her screams, in a strange kind of teamwork.

Finally, he'd been over her, able to move into place only because of a sustained screaming on her part. As he'd looked through, his stomach flipped. It looked like they'd been tasing her. Not enough to knock her out. That wouldn't have been productive. Just enough to make her want to beg them to stop. To do anything to get them to stop. Or to have Cruz do the same.

The new Section Chief was in a chair across the room from JJ, nearly out of Reid's sightline. His only access would be to his best friend. And he desperately wanted her to know that help was on its way. So he positioned himself over the vent, and made a blind search of his pockets. Thankful once again for his insatiable coffee habit, he found a receipt in his right trouser pocket. Reid silently tore off a small part of the paper and rolled it into a ball only millimeters in diameter.

He had to wait until their attention was turned. But that meant stilling himself through an excruciating three more rounds of tasing. He began to think he should just pull the vent out of place and drop through the ceiling himself. But he there were two of them, he could see that. It would only be minutes before they would have disposed of him and been back at her. Instead, he forced himself to watch, and listen….and pray. Finally, they moved away from her when Cruz called out to them.

Reid took the paper ball and dropped it through the vent, watching as it fell into the hair on JJ's shoulder.

_She didn't even feel it. I need get her arm_. So he tried again, and this time he saw her react. When another ball followed soon after, she looked up. He could see her squinting at the vent, and wondered if she could see him. To be sure…. and despite the enormous risk of it… he flashed his flashlight three times in quick succession. He thought he read a slow nod into the movement of her head.

By plan, he texted the information back to the remaining team.

BOTH. HURT. BRUISED. TASED. NO BLOOD.

A quick assessment on their status, allowing for planning on their timeline and how much independence they might expect from the two captives. The lack of penetrating wounds was reassuring, the tasing, not. They wouldn't be able to expect much help from JJ or Cruz, and they would probably have to assist them out of the room.

Hotch texted back: STAY IN PLACE. WAIT FOR SIGNAL.

This would be tricky. The door was steel, and bolted from the inside. They would have to open it with a small explosive charge. But that meant they would have to stand back, and cost them a precious second or two before they could enter the room. In this circumstance it had been decided, against everyone's better judgment, that Reid would provide the necessary distraction. He would, indeed, fall through the ceiling, prepared to cut JJ's bonds first, and then those that held Cruz to his chair.

After another excruciating twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Reid received his signal. NOW.

The vent was simply laid in place, not having been meant as a security measure. Reid silently pulled it out and dropped feet first through the space in the ceiling the moment he heard the charge go off. As they'd hoped, the mercenaries' attention was torn between the motion from the ceiling and the sound at the doorway. It would give Morgan the moment he needed to kick the door in.

Reid got to work right away cutting through JJ's ties. He was concerned to see her head lolling. He was even more concerned when he realized his colleagues weren't in the room yet. But he couldn't stray from his task.

"Hang in there, just a little bit longer, okay? Hang in there. I've almost got…."

His words turned into a cry when ever muscle in his body spasmed at once. He'd been tased.

"Spence!"

It had apparently been the low dose meant to torture, but not to kill. The feeling came back to his upper body before it did his legs, so Reid tried to roll and make a grab for the knife that had come out of his hand. But rolling required too much coordination, and the mercenary got there first.

In his peripheral vision, Reid could see the doorway, now filled with his teammates.  _Thank God!_

The mercenary was distracted by the motion, allowing Reid to finally get his feet under him and go for the knife once again. But this time his opponent took the opportunity to thrust the knife into Reid's unprotected middle.

JJ was still in her restraints, and screaming. "Spence! Somebody help him, please!"

Rossi and Blake saw it at the same time, but not soon enough. The mercenary withdrew the knife, and thrust it once again into the young FBI agent. He might be captured, but he wouldn't go without inflicting damage. Reid fell, and didn't get up again.

Their playing with the tasers had caused the mercenaries to be without their firearms, making it relatively easy for Hotch and Morgan to take down the one. Rossi and Blake holding their guns on him made short work of the second, who still held the bloody knife in his hand, a satisfied grin on his face.

Emily was already with JJ, using a box cutter to sever her ties, while Hotch did the same with Cruz. Once freed, JJ fell forward, having used the last of her strength to beg for help for Reid. Emily held her, keeping her from falling all the way to the floor.

Hotch spoke into his shoulder radio. "We need medics. Now."

* * *

"JJ? JJ. Where were you?"

His voice brought her back, but he could see the confusion and fear on her face. "I…"

She looked lost, somewhere in that great wasteland that he also inhabited from time to time.

"It's okay. You're here. It's over. Stay with me now, okay?" He'd taken her hands. "Stay with me. Here, in this hospital room. You'll never have to go back there again. Never. I promise."

But he knew she  _would_  go back. Whenever. Wherever. It would suck her back, when she least expected it. It's what happened to him. Sometimes the shack, sometimes the loft.

But it would be better for her. He'd make sure of that. He wouldn't let another person he loved disappear, even if it was only into her trauma. He would find a way to keep her here. To make sure she had a life.

No matter what.


End file.
